“You’ve done it, Senior Tribune,” Metellus exclaimed. “After yesterday, I would never have believed the invasion would be anything except a disaster.”
“We have a lot of work to do, sir. Such as finding and training Legion Marines for the invasion,” Alerio informed him. “But this proves our concept.”
“I’d like to report this to the Senate,” Centho volunteered. “If you will release us?”
“But the accountants are still going over the numbers,” Alerio pointed out.
“I believe I have reached my decision,” the Judge declared. “Alerio Carvilius Sisera, you are found not guilty on all counts. Can we go now?”
Alerio turned away from the dignitaries to glance down the beach. Standing in front of a large stack of wet boxes were Tribune Ninivita, Centurion Illotus, and a gang of clerks. Their misery was apparent.
“Yes, sir,” Alerio replied. “You have completed your duty to the fleet. And I thank you.”
Chapter 5 – Overextended Services
Four things occurred within the next week. A caravan of supplies arrived along with Sergeant Gratian and twenty supply men from the Central Legion.
“Optio, it took you long enough to get here,” Alerio greeted the NCO.
“Sir, I remember the days when Recruit Sisera would have been happy to see me,” Gratian replied. He stepped down from the wagon, groaned from being stiff, and saluted. “He would not have complained at the date of my arrival.”
“I remember when a Corporal at the Legion transfer post made a sack of coins from that young recruit,” Alerio reminded the NCO. “Good to have you here.”
Alerio indicated the shoreline and the second thing that occurred that week. A hundred quinqueremes, also known as five-bankers because of the distribution of their oarsmen, had rowed onto the beach at Ostia.
“That, Senior Tribune, is a lot of warships,” Gratian acknowledged. “I suppose they all need supplies and replacement gear. Where do you want me and my men?”
“I have an office for you,” Alerio answered. He handed a scroll to the Optio. “But first you’ll need to accept this. Afterward you can decide the proper system for distribution.”
Gratian read the scroll, raised his eyebrows, and bit his lip.
“Are you sure about this, sir?” the NCO inquired. “And what about the Centurion already in the position?”
“Centurion Gratian, we have one hundred and seventy-five quinqueremes along the shoreline, and more coming in every day,” Alerio described for the supply man. “The previous supply officer has a new assignment. With over sixty-two thousand oarsmen and sailors coming to man the five-bankers, I needed a Latrine Officer.”
“Bless me Sterculius, the God of Manure,” Gratian prayed, “What did the Centurion do to offend you?”
“Let’s just say I made a request and he objected,” Alerio replied. “Send the wagons to the warehouses and you come with me.”
Alerio and the new supply officer went to the Distribution Department.
With Gratian in place, Senior Tribune Sisera had an ally guarding his back and could concentrate on keeping Senator Regulus updated, training new oarsmen, enlisting Marines from the Legions, drilling warship officers, and taking care of the hundred other things necessary to build up the fleet. In answer to Gabriella’s question, the Legion did take care of its own. Provided you selected honorable men to stand with you.
***
Two days later, the third thing happened. From the entrance to the Tiber River, the Image of Philyra and four flatboats hauling lumber rowed into the sea. After two miles of travel, the warship and the barges beached at Ostia. The delivery of lumber would have been significant enough but adding to the importance was another occurrence.
Proconsul Marcus Regulus returned from the Capital. He rode with Consul/General Quintus Caedicius and the Battle Commanders for the General’s East Legion and West Legion. Caedicius and his staff had come to review the fleet and the preparations.
“I would never have dreamed the Republic could field that many warships,” the General offered when he saw the beach. “Truth be told, I never imagined there were that many ships in the sea.”
“There are more five-bankers coming in,” Regulus advised. “But even with all our warships, we’re still outnumbered by Qart Hadasht ships-of-war.”
Caedicius coughed hard and motioned to his throat. An aide nudged his horse close to the General, uncapped a wineskin, and poured liquid into a cup.
“Vinegar. You would think if sour vino were good for my cough,” the General bemoaned, “a fresh red would be just as healthful. And better tasting. But my physician says it has to be vinegar.”
The Consul/General drank and wrinkled his nose as the acid tartness washed down his throat.
“What are they doing on the beach?” the General inquired when he finished the medicine.
He referred to a line of men carrying boards, logs, and poles from flatboats. Like ants, the porters took the lumber to a pavilion, stacked the wood, and circled back to the barges. But they weren’t walking as one would expect of bored laborers. They ran the entire circuit.
“I was going to state the obvious,” Regulus admitted. “But now that I’ve paid closer attention, they aren’t just unloading. The men appear to be in competition. I’ll need to check with Sisera and see what he did to motivate them.”
While the general officers watched, the recruits for the Legion Marines continued their conditioning exercise. Their officers stood by making notes as the men unloaded the lumber by racing between the pavilion and the barges.
***
Hektor Nicanor skipped from table set up to table set up. At each, he adjusted the low tables or the couches at that location. Once satisfied with the arrangement, he rushed to another set and moved the furniture to within an arm’s length of the table. When he felt the guests could reach the food and pitchers of wine without straining, he opened the doors.
“Master Sisera, dinner is ready,” the youth announced.
“General, Proconsul,” Alerio informed his visitors, “the evening meal is served.”
He ushered them towards the great room. Although not as large as the feasting rooms in the Capital, the rented villa had enough space and couches for Quintus Caedicius, Marcus Regulus, Colonels Ferenc and Balint, plus Triticeus and the other three flank commanders. In essence, other than the Proconsul, the guests composed the top combat staff officers of two Legion.
“To get the opportunity to carry the fight to the Empire in their own territory,” General Caedicius expounded on the virtues of the invasion. “Once we beat them, unfortunately for you and Sisera, the war will be over.”
“Senior Tribune Sisera, if you recall, has just returned from a two-year diplomatic mission to Rhodes,” Marcus Regulus reminded the General. “He joined my staff to ready the fleet. Neither of us needs to go chasing glory.”
“Of course not. I didn’t mean to insinuate that administrative work wasn’t important,” Caedicius stated before a coughing spell took his breath.
After a few sips of wine, he calmed, and his breathing became regular. When Consul Caedicius settled, the other officers stretched out on couches.
“You are getting all worked up about this operation,” Regulus suggested. “Your fleet will be ready as will your Legions. I am positive, Consul/General, you will return victorious.”
Servants strolled in with platters of thinly sliced beef, bowls of sauces, and breads made from different grains.
“Lovely. Just lovely,” the General proclaimed. He dipped a slice of meat in a sauce, took a bite, and announced. “I didn’t expect such delicacies in a seaside town. This is delicious.”
“Lady Sisera, you are to be commended on your staff,” Regulus complimented Gabriella. “Tell me truthfully. Did you bring a chef from the city to prepare the meal?”
“I did not, Proconsul,” she assured him.
She had hired a local cook for the preparation but Hektor had stepped up with
the seasonings and the presentation. Gabriella had just thought about the youth when he marched stiffly into the banquet room. In a straight legged manner, as if to keep from running, Hektor circled the couches and approached her husband from behind. The boy paused to be sure Alerio wasn’t involved in a conversation. Seeing an opening, he bent and whispered in Alerio’s ear.
“Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me,” Alerio stated while standing. “There is a matter of a rabbit. I need to tend to.”
“A rabbit?” Caedicius questioned. “Don’t you have gardeners to take care of that sort of thing?”
“Not in this case, sir,” Alerio excused himself. “I should return shortly.”
Gabriella burst out laughing and held her arm out at about shoulder height for a short person.
“It’s not funny, lady of the villa,” Alerio scolded.
“Oh, but it is husband of mine,” she laughed. “Hurry, the Ardent Rabbit awaits.”
Alerio rushed from the room. The guests heard him turn down the offer of his chest armor, gladius, and helmet. Apparently, he was going rabbit hunting in his gala tunic.
“Excuse me, Lady DeMarco,” Marcus Regulus inquired, “Ardent Rabbit? Please explain.”
“Among his other duties,” she replied, “my husband has taken it upon himself to enlist and train the Legion Marines.”
“We have weapon’s instructors for that task,” Caedicius declared.
“With all do respect, General,” Gabriella informed him, “my husband is the best instructor in the Republic. And he has the scars to prove it.”
“Hold on,” Regulus requested. “Can we get back to the Ardent Rabbit?”
“He is the combat officer of the 5th Century, Legion Marines,” Gabriella replied. “A man of short status, a shorter temper, and as my Senior Tribute likes to say, a beast with the heart and fearlessness of a lion. That gentlemen describes Centurion Palle. The Marines of his Century call themselves the Ardent Rabbits. And they are as feisty as their officer.”
Hektor Nicanor stepped through the doorway, bowed, and announced, “The second course is served.”
***
Alerio leaped onto Phobos and kneed the stallion into motion. In a flurry of flashing hoofs and rushing wind, they shot from the villa and ran for a side street. At the end of the lane, the horse careened around a carriage and hooked a left. Once on the long stretched of road, Phobos increased his pace.
When the main avenue of Ostia appeared in the distance, Alerio eased back on the reins. If he hadn’t, the big horse would have plowed through the pedestrians and carts. As it was, the mount barely missed a couple of groups while making the turn towards the entertainment district.
With the gathering of the fleet, the town’s population had swollen by over one hundred thousand bodies. With sailors, oarsmen, naval and Legion officers, infantrymen, and a growing contingent of Marines invading Ostia Town, the civilian leaders decided to create an entertainment district. They forced the pubs and dancehalls with the drama girls into a central location. While the containment kept peace at other commercial businesses, the streets in and around the district were swamped. Boredom left young men restless, the wine uncorked their tempers, and when broad shoulders bumped each other, the incidents quickly escalated.
Alerio slowed the stallion and patted his neck to keep him calm. They walked slowly allowing the crowd to part and open a pathway. A couple of infantrymen decided to hold their ground against the rider. Phobos tensed, but Alerio’s firm hand and soothing voice kept the hoofs on the pavers.
“You might find a better place to parade that old nag,” one drunk slurred.
The stallion shouldered him aside and that should have been the end of it. It would have been. Except as the horse walked by, Alerio lifted his leg and kicked the drunk in the face. The man collapsed to the street and his companions looked around assuming someone had hit their friend from behind. The horse and rider were far away and deeper into the crowd by the time they realized their mouthy friend had been stomped in the face.
“Nobody insults my horse,” Alerio assured Phobos.
From his elevated position, the senior staff officer noted the commotion. Unlike a fistfight or a wrestling match between a couple of intoxicated men, the battlelines were obvious. On one side, squads of Marines sneered across a no-man’s-land at a gathering of infantrymen. Prowling back and forth in the space between the sides was a short stocky man. He beat his chest and pointed to infantrymen, challenging them to single combat. The number of Marines had held back the Legionaries. However, as more infantrymen arrived, the sides were close to balanced. Once they reached equilibrium, the streets of the district would witness blood, cuts, lacerations, and enough broken bones to cripple the fleet.
“Centurion Palle, stand down,” Alerio called from a distance.
The Ardent Rabbit ignored the far-off voice and continued to dare anyone of the Legionaries to come froward and fight him. Behind the Marine officer, squads from his Century waited for an excuse to start a melee.
Alerio had handpicked the Marines for aggressiveness, balance, strength, and the willingness to jump over a rail, span five feet of deep ocean, and land on a bouncing warship with their shield, weapons, and helmet. Some called it bravery, others noted it was foolhardy, but most summed up the attribute of Alerio’s picks as simply being crazy. And crazy was on full display on the streets of the entertainment district.
“Centurion Palle, stand down,” Alerio ordered when he got closer.
A big Legionary stepped froward and swung at the short officer. The Rabbit ducked and came up with a fist to the infantryman’s ribs. Two Legionaries stepped from the line, intending to help their comrade.
“Fifth Century, Legion Marines, brace,” Alerio shouted.
Even in the cacophony of the bellowing crowd, the Marines came to attention.
“Diagonal march left, forward,” Alerio instructed.
While the Legionaries faced straight ahead and had stacked up as if they were in the maniple formation, the Marine line cut across the front. The movement peeled away pairs of men who began to fight. As designed, the slanting motion prevented a scrum where the bottom men were as likely to be stomped to death as they were to participate in the brawl. Another result of the oblique attack, the Ardent Rabbit got swept off to the side and into Phobos’ chest.
“Centurion Pelle, you will pay attention to me,” Alerio threatened. “Or tomorrow, I will kick you out of bed before sunrise and run you twenty miles, before drowning you in the sea. Now brace, before I lose my temper.”
The Rabbit felt the horse and somewhere in his wine-soaked brain, the senior staff officer’s words landed.
“Senior Tribune Sisera,” Pelle acknowledged. He braced and swayed. “They started it. Called us sailors and claimed our jumps made us look like wounded ducks trying to fly.”
“Centurion. Can you soar like an eagle or zoom from one branch to another?” Alerio challenged. “From my vantage point, you do resemble wounded ducks. Ducks armed with gladii and shields. Now stop wasting my time, and get this mess sorted out. I left a dinner with General Caedicius for this.”
While Pelle searched for his squad leaders, two Legionaries stumbled from the fray. They saw the horse and one punched Phobos in the haunches. In a twisting dive, Senior Tribune Sisera leaped from the horse and tore into the infantrymen.
***
Quintus Caedicius, Marcus Regulus, Colonels Ferenc and Balint, Triticeus and the other Senior Tribunes of the Flank glanced up at the sound of sandals on the tile flooring.
“Gentlemen, I apologize for the delay in my return,” Alerio announced from the doorway. “I trust my absence hasn’t spoiled your evening.”
The guest, Gabriella, and Hektor stared open mouthed at Alerio. His quality tunic was ripped and splattered with blood. And he had dirt in his hair and a bruise on his cheek. To Gabriella’s relief, there didn’t appear to be any open wounds or signs of bandages.
“Lady Gabriella has been a de
lightful conversationalist,” General Caedicius informed him. “And your valet, Hektor Nicanor, has enthralled us with tales of Alexander the Great’s Silver Shields.”
“A topic he excels at,” Alerio acknowledged. “If you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I’ll go and clean up.”
“Did you resolve your rabbit issue?” Regulus teased.
“Enthusiastically, sir, I’m afraid,” Alerio responded. He indicated the ruined tunic. “But satisfactorily I can assure you. Now, if you’ll pardon me.”
The General and the Proconsul released him with waves of their hands.
“A most interesting Senior Tribune,” Caedicius offered once Alerio had gone.
“That he is, General,” Regulus confirmed.
Chapter 6 – Flying Rabbits
Gabriella DeMarco Sisera leaned around the frame. On the stretched linen surface, she had only progressed to a rough sketch of a man posed on a rearing horse.
“Are you taking the day off?” she inquired. “If so, we can pack a lunch, ride inland, and have a picnic in the trees.”
“Not taking the day,” Alerio informed her. He dropped into a chair and unrolled a scroll. “The General is leaving for the Capital at midday. Marcus wants us to send him off with a ceremony, meaning I need to be fresh and dressed.”
“Are you disappointed you can’t go play with your flying rabbits?” she asked.
He grinned despite the affront to his Marines. Because when his wife smiled, she could do no wrong nor say anything offensive.
“I’ll work with them later,” Alerio told her. “Right now, I need to figure where to house four Legions, their cavalry, and the auxiliary troops when they arrive.”
“How many men will that make in Ostia?” she asked.
“Eventually, over one hundred and forty thousand,” Alerio replied. “But that will be the end for us. Once they all gather and launch, we’ll be done here.”
“Not that I have that many friends in Rome,” Gabriella admitted. “But it’ll be good to get back to the Capital.”
Uncertain Honor Page 5
